


mutually oblivious

by regionals



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regionals/pseuds/regionals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler goes on and on about how Josh is just so goddamn oblivious, but he's just as bad, if not worse.</p><p>
  <a href="https://ficbook.net/readfic/6339156/16216252">Russian translation available!</a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	mutually oblivious

**Author's Note:**

> ok i had to post something cute after the fucking monstrosity i posted yesterday lmao

**Note: Despite being in second person, this isn't a reader insert.**

 

**START**

 

**Tyler**

 

Josh really has to be an idiot. There's no other explanation. There _can't_ be another explanation. He's just—he's an idiot. He's so _oblivious,_ and _blind._ You've known the guy since you were five, but his obliviousness still manages to surprise you, even twelve years later.

See, the thing is, you're hopelessly and madly in love with him.

It probably started the day you met him, if you're honest. The day you saw his dumb, fluffy brown hair, and his even prettier brown eyes. Yes, even as a five year old, you recognized that he was already beautiful, and that he'd only get even more beautiful.

You started having an inkling of a suspicion of having a crush when you were ten, and you started hearing all of the other girls and boys talking about their crushes, and how they felt. Butterflies in the stomach, heart beating faster than anything imaginable, the way you can't stop staring at him, the way you instantly perk up and grin like an idiot whenever he walks into a room, and the way you stumble over yourself trying to talk to him.

Okay, maybe that last one isn't true, since he's your best friend, and he's the person you talk to most, but, spiritually, you're an awkward, stumbling, stuttering mess when you're around him.

When you were fifteen, and the puberty you were (and still are) going through was in full swing, you started noticing _other_ things. The way he was starting to fill out his shirts, and the way he was starting to lose all that baby fat. The way the muscles in his back and arms moved under his skin whenever he did anything. (He doesn't wear shirts. You don't know what it is, but he can't keep a shirt on longer than necessary. It's ridiculous.)

Just—look—he's hot, and you're attracted to him. You would probably die just to enter the bone zone of Joshua Dun. Of course, like you mentioned, he's fucking _oblivious,_ and you figure you're probably going to have to just grab him by the dick to get through to him.

 

“Hey, Tyler, can I tell you something?” You look up from your textbook. The two of you _were_ in the middle of studying for a final, but as usual, either of you got sidetracked. (Well, he did. You were still studying, but you were also managing to talk to him.)

“It's not like we're best friends or anything. Go for it.”

He's shifting left to right, and avoiding eye contact. He's biting on his lip and he keeps almost closing one of his eyes as he kinda-sorta scrunches his face up. You know the body language of Joshua Dun about as good as you know English—which is pretty fucking good, considering you got an almost perfect score on your SAT for it. He's _nervous._

“Um… Okay, look, promise me you're not going to hate me, alright?”

“Josh, you've already given me plenty of reasons to hate you, but I'm still here, so will you tell me before I have to tackle you to the floor and tickle it out of you?”

He huffs a quick breath of laughter. “I'm bisexual.”

“Okay? Is that it?”

 _“Is that it?_ Tyler—you—you're _religious_ as all get out. _'Is that it?'”_

“Okay, well, you apparently haven't been paying attention to me for the past four years. How many times have I pulled excuses out of my ass to get out of going to church, and how many times have I conveniently been at a friend's house for the weekend for the same purpose?”

“Oh. _Oh.”_

“Yeah, _'oh.'”_

The two of you sit in awkward silence for a minute or two. You're staring him down, not breaking your composure for even a second, and he's still avoiding eye contact.

“If it makes you feel any better, I'm gay.”

You have _never_ seen his head move that fast. Ever. “No way. You're fucking with me.”

You groan and slam your pencil down on your textbook. “How many girlfriends have I had?”

“Zero, because you're a fuckin' loser.”

“Okay, well, fuck off. How many _girls_ do I look at?”

He thinks for a minute. “… None.”

“Alright. What kind of TV shows do I watch?”

“Oh, good fucking god, you really _are_ gay.” His eyes are wide. “You seriously aren't fucking with me?”

“Oh my god, _Josh_ , do I need to show you my internet browsing history? Do I need to pull up my _porn blog_ on Tumblr? Do I need to go down on a guy in front of you?”

“Jesus—it's like you're leading some double life as a gay pervert—and you've been _hiding_ it from me. I thought—I thought you were just— _Tyler Joseph.”_

“Why are you so _shocked_ about this?” You're just laughing now.

“I—man, I have no fuckin' clue. You're a mysterious guy.”

 

“So, Tyler, now that we're both out to each other, we can talk about _boys.”_

“I guess. What do you want to talk about?”

He has his chin resting on the palms of his hands, and his fingers against his cheeks. He's fucking adorable, and it takes everything in you not to lean over to kiss him. “Crushes.”

It's right then that you get a little inkling of hope. Just a small little inkling of it. Maybe he likes you. Just maybe. “Yeah? Who do you like?”

“That one kid in choir. Like, with the eyebrows, and the jawline.”

“Who, _Brendon?”_

“Is that his name?”

“Yeah? If you're talking about who I _think_ you're talking about, then, yeah, that's his name.” _He likes_ Brendon? _Are you kidding me? No offense to Brendon, but he's the most basic guy ever, and Josh—good god, he and Josh would be a horrible fucking match._ “Why do you like him, anyways?”

“I dunno. He's cute and he's funny and a _little_ hot.”

“You're shallow, aren't you?”

He groans. “I'm seventeen, Tyler. I'm allowed to be shallow. Anyways, enough about me. Do _you_ gotta crush on anyone?”

“I guess.”

“Tell me about him. Maybe I can guess who he is.”

“Good luck. I dunno—he's adorable, beautiful even, but he's also like, really hot. He's funny and really nice, too.”

“What does he look like?”

“Brown eyes and brown hair.” You're glad that Josh has some of the most basic traits. Brown eyes and brown hair is ridiculously vague, so he'll never be able to guess.

“Oh my _god._ I'm never going to guess. Tell me more.”

“He's probably about the same height as me, give or take. Kind of scrawny, but also kind of muscular. Look, Josh, you're not going to be able to guess, and I'm not telling you.”

He groans. “You're no fun.”

 

A few weeks later, you're sat down again for another 'crush talk.' “Okay, the thing with Brendon definitely isn't happening.”

You snort. “Really? What happened?”

“I was at a party and we like—god, this is embarrassing.”

“What? Did you fuck him?” You're kidding. You're seriously kidding.

But, of course, he says, “Yeah. Anyways, I don't like him. He wasn't _bad,_ but there's nothing there.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“ _Anyways,_ I think I have a crush on someone else now.”

“Are you a serial dater?”

“Shut up. It's a girl this time.”

“Oh _really?”_ You groan. Definitely not you, unless you've suddenly acquired tits and a vagina.

“Yeah, dude. You know the one girl with the purple hair and the nose piercing?”

“Debby? Hate to burst your bubble, but I'm pretty sure she's a lesbian.”

“How do you even know that?”

“I have gaydar. Ask her out if you don't believe me.”

Of course, he takes it as a challenge. “Alright. I _will.”_

 

He dates Debby for about a month before she confirms that she is, in fact, a lesbian, and you almost spit your water out when Josh tells you. “Dude, shut up. I'm sad.”

“I _told you_ that she was a lesbian, but you didn't listen. You were probably her beard.”

He socks you in the arm for that.

“Ow, you _fucker_.”

“Do you still have a crush on the same guy?”

“Yeah. I think he's kind of an idiot, though.”

“Oh, shit, what did he do?” He's suddenly interested.

You shrug. “Nothing, really. He's just super oblivious. I've been dropping hints left and fucking right, but he keeps mistaking them for _friend_ things, or just not picking up on them in general.”

“Oh, jeez, that sounds rough, dude.” He pats you on the back. “Alright, I've got to get to calculus, but I'll see you after school, alright?”

“Yeah, of course.” You groan loudly once he's out of earshot.

 

By hints, you mean that you've been more affectionate with him than you usually are, and you keep saying things that are a little _not_ platonic.

The two of you are affectionate with each other, because, like, who has the time for sexuality and masculinity issues? Two dudes can be affectionate without being together, just like girls can. It's common for you to have your head on his shoulder during a movie, or for the two of you to hook your pinkies together once in a while, not to mention hugging for no apparent reason.

It's also common for him to pretty much lay on you whenever he's complaining about something, and it's pretty common that he falls asleep on your shoulder, or with his head on your lap if the two of you are watching TV in his living room. (Not yours. Your parents would freak the _fuck_ out if they saw the two of you doing anything more than a quick bro-hug.)

He's also a fucking asshole, but, he kisses _everyone._ Not on the lips, but on either the forehead or the cheek. It's just another one of those affection things, or maybe it's just a _Josh_ thing, but that definitely doesn't stop you from burning up every single fucking time it happens.

 

A few months pass, Josh goes through four or five girlfriends and boyfriends, your feelings definitely aren't hurt, and you're _definitely_ not getting a little frustrated with him.

He's a hopeless romantic, and you get that. He just likes romance, and he wants to be in a relationship with someone that he can be totally romantic with. Why that person can't be _you,_ well, you don't know, but of course, you still listen to him rant at two in the morning while the two of you are supposed to be asleep.

You're sitting on the roof of your house, because that's the only place you can get to quietly that you also can't be heard from. You have about an hour left on your laptop, so you warn him that you're not going to be able to Skype with him that long, but he makes some comment along the lines of, “It's fine, as long as I get to talk to ya, dude.”

And you really want to punch something because he shouldn't be able to make you feel so giddy from some comment that he makes all the damn time anyways.

As soon as the video loads up, he's saying, “Y'know, one day you're going to fall off of that roof.”

“You're the one who wanted to talk to me, you douche.” You're grinning, which takes a way the legitimacy of your insult.

“It's boy trouble.”

 _Ugh._ “What kind of boy trouble?”

“Like, _boy trouble.”_

“Get to the point, dude. My laptop battery sucks.”

“Alright, alright. So like, I have another crush on someone.”

“Go on.”

“I mean, I've had a crush on this one guy for a long time, but I don't think he likes me, you know?”

“Yeah, Josh. I _definitely_ know what you mean.” You're being so passive aggressive right now, and you're just _praying_ he doesn't pick up on it. “How long, though?”

“I'm not giving you specifics, but, it's been a while. How are things going with your guy?”

His face looks ridiculously cute in the glow of his laptop screen, and you kind of want to hug him. You can't, though, so you just reply to him instead. “About the same, I guess. He keeps saying these things though, and it's like—he's always said them before, but I keep noticing them more than I did. He's so _frustrating._ I just want to ask him whether or not he likes me, or if he's just _super_ oblivious, but I don't want _him_ to know that _I_ like him.”

“Why don't you just tell him? You'll never know if you don't try.”

“I _would,_ but I _know_ he doesn't like me.”

He sighs in a way that's mocking you. “Tyler, Tyler, whatever will I do with you?”

“Oh, shut up. Talk to me about the long-term crush.”

“What do you want to know?” He leans back onto his pillows, and you try to ignore the way his chest and his stomach look.

“Whatever you want to tell me, I guess.”

“He's so _cute._ I know you give me shit about being shallow, but this isn't shallow, alright? He's just cute. His personality is cute, the way he talks, his mannerisms—they're all just cute. Man, have you ever had that feeling where if a person walks into the room or whatever, you just have to stop and look at them, because like—you just—you know? Do you know what I mean?”

You sigh, hopefully inaudibly. _Sounds like he's in love. Nice._ “I do. I kind of get that with my guy. He's beautiful, and I hate him sometimes.”

“Okay, but what _kind_ of beautiful?”

“Just— _beautiful._ Inside and out. Like, his eyes, his hair, his nose, his lips, his arms, his neck, his back—”

He knows where you're going with that, and he starts giggling. “Shut the fuck up, Tyler.”

You start giggling too. “Alright, alright, I kid, but he's seriously, like, super dreamy. What I wouldn't do to at least kiss the dude...”

“Man, it sounds like you've got it bad.”

“Yeah, you're telling me, dude.”

Your laptop battery gives out on you a few minutes after that, so you slide back down off of the roof and into your bedroom window before you get caught.

 

Josh talks you into ditching class a few weeks later. You're going to get nailed when your parents find out, but, hey, you get to sit in the back of his car in the parking lot of some fast food place smoking cigarettes and having meaningful conversations with the most gorgeous guy alive, so who cares, right?

“Tyler, I swear to god, this guy is _literally_ going to be the death of me.”

“Is that so?”

“ _Dude,_ he's just about as bad as your guy. Like, with the obliviousness and all.” He's obnoxiously leaning on you now, and groaning loudly. “Why can't he just _see.”_

“Boys are dumb. We're both dumb, probably.” _Or at least you are._

“True, true. Dude, yesterday he wore this one outfit that looked, like, _really_ good on him. I seriously just wanted to kiss the hell out of him right then and there.”

“Why didn't you?”

“We were in the cafeteria and we probably would've gotten in trouble if I were to have done that.”

“Okay, dude, _my guy_ is literally wearing one of his best outfits today. I saw him this morning before you talked me into ditching,” _And I'm seeing him right now,_ “and, oh my god, I just about busted my load as soon as I saw him. Also, have I ever told you about how _dumb_ his smile is?”

“If it's dumb, then why do you like him?”

“I didn't mean literally. Anyways, he has this adorable fuckin' smile, and sometimes he smiles so wide that his eyes just about close, and it's so _adorable._ It makes me want to _weep.”_

He busts out his sing-song voice; “Tyler's in _love,_ Tyler's in _love.”_

You push him hard enough to where his body slams against the car door. “Fuck off.”

He just laughs. “I'm just kidding. When are you gonna ask this guy out?”

“Probably never, unless he makes the first move.”

“You're so _lame.”_

“Are you going to make a move on _your_ guy?”

“At some point, yeah. I feel like he reciprocates the feelings, but I'm not quite sure yet.”

“How do you even know?”

He shrugs. “I have my ways.”

You roll your eyes. “You're a loser.”

“So are you.”

 

One afternoon, Josh is over at your house, trying to get ready for a _date._ “I'm gonna ask my guy to go on a date with me, but I need you to help me get ready, and to help me make _plans.”_

You seriously want to murder both him _and_ yourself. “Okay, well, for one thing, we need to do something about your hair. It's cute and all, but it's messy.”

“Rude.”

You roll your eyes. “Dude, just come here. I have hairspray and a comb.”

He kind of leans into your touch as you run your hands through his hair, trying to style it just right, and it kind of makes your heart thud in your chest. Once you're done, you hold up a mirror, and he admits that you were right, and that he looks way better. _Duh._

“Clothes. How do my clothes look?”

“Alright, I guess. Uh, your shirt could use a little work. Wear one of mine.” You go through your closet for a few minutes before tossing one of your button-ups at him. It's the floral print one, and he gives you a look.

“Do I look like a floral print kind of guy?”

“You're the one who's at my house trying to get ready for a date. Just wear it; you'll look fine.”

He grumbles, but obeys anyways. He peels his shirt off, and you try not to be too obvious as you check him out. You help him button the cuffs of the shirt, before saying, “I think you're just about ready.”

“Alright. I think I'm going to buy him a bouquet of flowers. What kind?”

“Uh. I mean, if it were me, I wouldn't get roses. Get something with more variation. Like, roses, daisies, and whatever other flowers there are, and not all the same color, either.”

“Alright, noted. Oh, dude, should I take the guy to a restaurant, or at least somewhere with food, or should I go to a movie theater?”

“I mean, I'd go with the food, because at least the two of you could talk or whatever, but a movie theater would be good for making out as long as you sat in the back, and as long as there aren't too many people around. It depends on what you want out of it. _Personally,_ I'd go with the food one, because the two of you could talk, and depending on if you eat in the restaurant or not, there's potential for some lip action.”

“Okay, I think that's it. I'll be back later to tell you how it goes, alright?”

You give him a thumbs up as he walks out of your house.

 

About half an hour later, there's a knock on your door. You open it, only to find Josh standing there with a bouquet. “What, did he turn you down?”

“I don't know yet. Did he?”

You make a weird face. “How am I supposed to know?”

He doesn't respond.

“Josh, now isn't the time to play the guessing game. I don't _know.”_

“Oh my fucking _god;_ You're an _idiot.”_

“Okay, uh, that was _rude.”_

“Will you just go on the fucking date with me?!”

Your jaw drops. “You _fucker.”_ You hit him in the chest, and he starts _laughing._

“Jesus Christ—you go on and on about me being oblivious, but you're just as bad, if not worse.”

You _groan_ so loudly. “Let me get my shoes, you asshole.”

 

_"How did you even figure it out?"_

_"You talked about my smile, and I'm the only person you know who does the thing with almost closed eyes."_

_"Oh my god. You're so conceited."_

 

Okay, so, you're the oblivious one. He's oblivious too, but not _that_ oblivious.

 

**END**


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